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Oh, Nadine, you should have seen Paco's expression when he saw me leaving! You've never seen such a sad old dog. He misses John, too, you could totally tell. Even Mr.Peepers came out and tried to follow me into the hallway, so he could he could escape Max Friedlander's oppressive presence. So I took Tweedle Dum to the animal hospital, and two hundred dollars later (out of my own pocket, thank you very much: you know I'll never see that money again) it turns outthe poor cat is diabetic, and he has to have two insulin shots a day, and be brought backto the vet once a week for tests until his diabetes is regulated and stabilized.Do you think MAX is trustworthy enough to handle this kind of responsibility? Of course not. He's going to kill this poor cat. Right now I have Tweedle Dum here with me, but he isn't reallymy cat. I know Mrs. Friedlander would want him to have the best care possible, but he isn't going to get that if he stays with Max. I just don't know what to do. Should I just tell him the cat died, and keep him here with me in secret? I wish I could smuggle all of them out of there. Paco and Mr. Peepers, I mean. Max is the worst animal caretaker I have ever seen. John may have been a liar, but at least he genuinely cared about Mrs. Friedlander's pets. Max doesn't care. You can just tell. I would give anything to have things back the way they were before I knew John wasn't really Max Friedlander. He was a much better Max than the real Max.
Mel
To: Mel Fuller You have completely lost your mind. You do realize this, don't you? I don't know if this whole thing with John has sent you into some kind of mental tailspin, or if you have just been spending way too much time cooped up in that apartment of yours, but you are clearly in desperate need of counseling. Or a trip to Saks. I'm not sure which. TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS? You spent TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS of your own money on a cat that isn't even yours? Are you mental???? And now you are going to keep it in your apartment and give it two insulin shots a day? Mel, GROW UP. This isn't some little orphan you've adopted. It's a CAT. It's your neighbor's cat. Give it back to Max and stop obsessing. My G.o.d, what happened to you? You used to be normal. I mean, aside from your fixation on the love lives of celebrities and your constant shoe shopping. Nadine To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k As soon as I got your empowering email, I went over to Max's and I pounded on the door and I told him about Tweedle Dum. I brought the cat with me, along with all of his medical supplies, and I showed Max what he has to do...you know, how to fill the syringe and how to give the cat his shots. Max looked pretty dumbfounded. He was all, "You mean cats can get diabetes, too, just like people?" I don't think he really understood a word I said. In fact, I *know* he didn't, because when I told him to fill the syringe himself, he filled it all the way up to the number 5, instead of 5 units, which is the correct dosage. I started to explain to him why this was so dangerous, and how Sunny von Bulow has been in a coma ever since Klaus slipped her a needle filled with too much insulin, but I don't think he heard anything but that last part, since he became very interested in that, and wanted to know how much insulin would send someone into a coma, or even kill them. As if I would know that. I told him to watch ER like a normal person and he'd probably find out eventually. He's going to kill that cat. I'm telling you right now, he's going to kill him. G.o.d I wish Mrs. Friedlander would wake up, kick Max out, and go back to planning trips to Nepal and her aquasize cla.s.s. Wouldn't it be great if all of this turned out to be some weird dream she was having while she was asleep? Like if it turned out everything that has happened in the past few months since I found her unconscious never happened, and everything could just go back to normal? That would be so great. Then I wouldn't have to feel this way anymore. You know. Like there's a great big spiky satellite dish piercing my heart. Mel To: [email protected] From: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k Subject: Mel Dear John, I got your email address from Tony. I hope you don't mind. I don't normally get involved in Mel's personal affairs if I can help it, but I am making an exception in this case. I really can't restrain myself any longer. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING???? You and that stupid Max Friedlander. What could you have been thinking, trying to pull off something so incredibly asinine? Now you've broken my best friend's heart, something for which I am sure I will never forgive you. But even worse, you have left her to the mercy of the real Max Friedlander, whom I am convinced has got to be the biggest idiot who ever walked the face of the planet. How could you? HOW COULD YOU???? That's all I have to know. I hope you're satisfied. You have ruined the life of one of the sweetest girls who ever lived. Because of you, she got suspended from her job, has a moron for a next door neighbor, and missed the annual fall shoe sale at Steve Madden's, because she was too depressed to go shopping. I hope you're proud of yourself. Nadine Wilc.o.c.k To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k To: John Trent Geez, calm down, will you? Max isn't doing anything to Mel. He's just being...well, Max, near as I can tell (I mean, it's not as if I know him). One of the cats turns out to be diabetic and Max is not being real cooperative about taking care of him, is all. And you know Mel. Listen, will you think about what I said? If you care about Mel at all, there's got to be some way you can make all this up to her. Can't you think of SOMETHING? Nadine To: Max Friedlander From: John Trent John To: John Trent Subject: Diabetic cats What would I want to move into your place for? Don't you live way the h.e.l.l inBrooklyn? I hate the subway. Plus, if I remember correctly, you don't even have cable. Aren't you doing that whole bohemian writer thing? You know, milk crates and a futon and all?Thanks, but no thanks. Max To: Max Friedlander From: John Trent John To: John Trent Subject: Diabetic cats You are pathetic, man. You've really got it bad for this girl, don't you? It must be thered hair. *I* certainly can't see it. If you ask me, she's a nosy b.i.t.c.h. Worse, she's oneof those weird cat women who think animals have feelings and all of that. G.o.d, I hate that c.r.a.p.Anyway, nice try with the hotel offer and all, but if things go the way I'm expecting them to, I'll be living in my own place not too long from now. So thanks, but I'll pa.s.s. Max PS You really are pathetic, you know. I could hook you up with girls way better lookingthan the one in 15B. Seriously. Just let me know. To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k John To: Tony Salerno Why are men so stupid? I mean, excluding you, of course? I write to John Trent--I take time out of my busy schedule to write John Trent a moving and deeply felt email asking if he can't think of anything, ANYTHING, he could do that might make Mel forgive him, clearly hinting that if he proposed, she might very well say yes--and what does he do? What does he do? He emails stupid Max Friedlander and tries to get him to let him move back into the apartment next door to Mel's. How STUPID can he be? What do I have to do to get the message across to the guy? Take out a stupid sign???? What is WRONG with you people???? Nad To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k Nadine, when are you going to learn not to get involved in other people's business? Leave John Trent alone. Let Mel work out her own problems. She doesn't need your help. Tone To: Tony Salerno >Let Mel work out her own problems. She doesn't need your help.That is a typical male response. Plus I can't even begin to tell you how wrong it is.Nadine To: Dolly Vargas Tim, why don't you put your decorative flair to good use and tape some streamers around her cubicle? George, I think a small gift would be appropriate--and this time, how about something you didn't purchase at the newsstand downstairs? I mean, Jujubees are nice and all, but not exactly special. Dolly, since you're so good with the phones, why don't you spread the word about the time and place. That way we'll be sure to get a good crowd. And above all, try to act positive. I'm telling you, she's so low these days, I wouldn't be surprised if she turned tail and slunk back to Illinois. And we can't have that. DO NOT, whatever you do, mention the words John Trent. I'm telling you, she's on the edge. So be there or be square! Nadine ;-) To: Mel Fuller We missed you so much! It was completely dead around here without you. No one totell us what celebrity weddings were coming up, or keep us posted on the latest Leosightings. I nearly expired from boredom.So, where are we going for lunch? Nad ;-) To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k Fondly, Mel To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k M. To: Mel Fuller I can't take it anymore, all right? This stupid dieting thing is for the birds! What is the point of being alive if I can't eat what I want? I don't care about fitting into my mother's stupid wedding dress anymore. I'm buying my own wedding dress, one in which I can actually breathe. And I won't have to starve myself for the next six weeks either. And when it comes time for the cake during my reception, I'll actually be able to eat a slice without having to worry about splitting my seams. There. Are you happy? I've said it. I AM A BIG GIRL. That's all there is to it. I will never be a size six, or a size eight, or even a size twelve. I am a size sixteen, and that's all there is to it. I won't give up spinning cla.s.s, because I know that's good for me, but I will be d.a.m.ned if I'm going to eat salad with dressing on the side every meal for the rest of my life just so that I can squeeze into a dress that some magazine says is the right size for my height. How do THEY know what the right size for my height is? They don't. They don't know me. They don't know that my fianc. happens to LIKE the way I look, that he says I'm the s.e.xiest woman he knows, and that when I walk down the street, garbage men and truck drivers whistle and ask for my number. So I can't be doing too badly, can I? Now, where are we going for lunch? Nadine To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k Mel To: Mel Fuller Applebee's? With a supermodel? There are so many things wrong with that sentence I can't even begin to describe them. Hate you? Why should I hate you? Just because you've chosen to lunch at a place I wouldn't be caught dead in with a size 2 supermodel?Sure. Go ahead. See if I care. Nad :-( To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k Mel To: Mel Fuller LOVE, VIVICA. To: [email protected] From: Mel Fuller Mel To: Mel Fuller I WOULD LOVE TO MEET YOUR FREIND NADINE!!! FOOD CRITIC? THAT SOUNDS LIKE A HARD JOB. LIKE IF I WERE A FOOD CRITIC, I WOULDN'T KNOW WHICH I LIKED BETTER, FRIDAY'S POTATO SKINS WITH CHEDDAR AND BACON BITS OR APPLEBEE'S POTATO SKINS WITH CHEDDAR AND BACON BITS. ANYWAY, THE TIME I WENT TO MAX'S AUNT'S APARTMENT WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE I LEFT FOR KEY WEST. MAX WAS SUPPOSED TO GO WITH ME, BUT AT THE LAST MINUTE HE GOT A SHOOT IN LA, SO I ENDED UP GOING DOWN FIRST, AND THEN HE MET ME ABOUT A WEEK LATER. SO WHAT HAPPENED WAS, THE NIGHT BEFORE WE LEFT, HE SAID HE HAD TO GO PICK SOMETHING UP FROM HIS AUNT'S APARTMENT, SO I WAITED DOWNSTAIRS IN THE CAB WHILE HE WENT AND GOT IT. I NEVER DID GET TO MEET HIS AUNT. MAX SAID SHE IS KIND OF A b.i.t.c.h AND WOULDN'T LIKE ME ON ACCOUNT OF ME BEING TOO YOUNG FOR HIM, WHICH HAPPENS WITH A LOT OF MY BOYFRIENDS. ANYWAY, AFTER A WHILE MAX CAME BACK DOWN AND WE WENT TO CHILI'S. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN THEIR? THEY HAVE THE BEST ARTICHOKE DIP. WE SHOULD GO SOMETIME! WELL, THAT'S ALL FOR NOW!. VIVICA. To: Mel Fuller and noticed you were deeply immersed not in today's column, as one might hope, but inyour email. I know this might come as a surprise to you, but we don't actually pay you tocorrespond with your friends, Fuller. We pay you to work. WOULD YOU MIND DOING SOME?Or would that be asking too much of you? G. To: George Sanchez It might very well be about you. Mel To: Mel Fuller If it doesn't go on Page Ten, I'm not interested. G. To: From: Mel Fuller Please let me know as soon as you can. Mel To: Mel Fuller Dear Miss Fuller, We have never been formally introduced, but we have met, most recently at a benefit at Lincoln Center. I believe you will remember me: I was the elderly woman sitting beside John Trent, whom you believed at the time was Max Friedlander. The two of you spoke for some time. I, of course, was not permitted to say very much, as my grandson did not wish you to discover the truth of his ident.i.ty, for reasons which I believe are clear to you now. I cannot apologize for my grandson's behavior...that is something he must do for himself. I trust that he has done so. It is my understanding that you have chosen not to accept his apologies, and that, of course, is your prerogative. But before you dismiss my grandson completely from your life, Miss Fuller, I would ask that you consider the following: John loves you. I understand that after the way he's treated you, you might find this hard to believe. But I ask that you believe it. I would very much like an opportunity to convince you of the truth of this in person. Would it be possible, or am I asking too much, for us to meet? I would so love to have a chance to speak to you, woman to woman. Do let me know. Genevieve Randolph Trent To: Nadine Wilc.o.c.k Mel To: Mel Fuller Okay, you have officially lost it now. Put her in a home? Where do you come up with this stuff? And how did you get all of that out of that perfectly sweet email she wrote you? They aren't the Kennedys, for G.o.d's sake. No one in that family has ever been accused of murder. Possession, maybe, but nothing violent. And the grandmother, at least, is a well-known patron of the arts, and a huge supporter of many of the same charities, you, young lady, have been known to write about admiringly. So where do you get this stuff? Your imagination is working overtime. You should maybe give up journalism and go into fiction writing, because that seems to be where your real talent lies.
